Are We There Yet?
by puffinpuffin
Summary: Harry thinks about his life and "the power the Dark Lord knows not". Is he destined to spend his life alone, or will a certain redhead be the one to give him what he so desperately seeks? Harry/Ginny slightly AU
1. Just Harry vs The Almighty One

Harry sat in the small Muggle café nursing his cup of coffee and contemplating, not for the first time, the state of his life. Sure, he had great friends, great family, but there was something missing…

He stared at the dregs of his coffee and snorted mirthlessly. How ironic that the Boy-Who-Lived's 'power' should prove to be so unattainable, that love should evade him so thoroughly, whilst everyone around him seemed to have no problems finding and keeping it. Harry sighed deeply, and tried himself to think of something else, unwilling as he was to spend another day mourning his utter lack of anything even remotely resembling a love life.

His mind however, seemed to have other ideas.

Harry sighed again. He wasn't a bad looking chap, he thought, looking at his reflection in the window, a bit scruffy, certainly, but girls had always seemed to like that. His growth spurt had ended with him being a very respectable six foot tall and the physically demanding nature of his job as an auror meant that that he was in extremely good shape. He had regular features and while he didn't consider himself to be anything special, he was decent looking enough to get by. The problem, he supposed, was not him, but _Harry bloody Potter_. And while he was willing to concede that he and Harry Potter were one and the same, it didn't change the fact that 'just Harry's' prospects would be a lot brighter than Harry Potter's. Just Harry (as he had taken to calling himself) could have walked into the Leaky, chatted up a nice witch, asked her out on a date and, Merlin willing, been accepted, with no worries more than if he had something clean to wear and whether or not to bring her flowers. _Harry sodding_ _Potter_ on the other hand, was swamped with witches the minute he set foot in the wizarding pub, all hoping that they could get into his pants, or into his vaults. He had considered dating Muggles, but after one horrendously awkward date (his first and only) where he struggled to come up with enough information (lies) that sounded believable enough to not raise suspicions, he gave up. Add to that the fact that if he did end up in a long term relationship with the girl, he would eventually have to tell her about magic and he would have felt rather guilty about thrusting a woefully unprepared Muggle into the magical world, what with the whole Harry Potter thing and the fame and public scrutiny that went with it.

Considering this, he was severely limited in his prospects. He needed to find a witch that saw Just Harry as he was and liked the poor fool anyway. He knew that Harry Potter was imposing. He had an aura of power that drew people to him and a charisma and charm that made people like him. Unfortunately for Just Harry, _Harry Stupid Potter_ was a persona. Harry Potter was what Just Harry became in public- confident, charming and debonair. In reality, Just Harry was a bumbling, awkward idiot. His lack of dating experience did not help matters either. During his school years he had been too wrapped up in killing Voldie to chase girls and he doubted the uncertainty of if he would survive to see his eighteenth birthday would have been conducive towards pleasant romantic entanglements. He had just not seen the point of starting something only to die on the poor girl. His one attempt at a relationship had been a miserable failure, and to this day he could not hear the name Cho Chang without, a wave of panic hitting him and leaving him with an irrational need to run for the nearest exit. Perhaps it was not surprising, his dating history featuring only one short (and soggy) relationship and a single failed date, that his quest to find love was so far unsuccessful.

"_Harry Potter, Slayer of Voldemort, could find love. He could probably do it with his eyes closed…" _stated Just Harry's inner voice, a rude, snarky thing that sounded disconcertingly like Professor Snape. Only its sole aim in life was to slowly destroy Just Harry's soul, unlike the true Snape, who would have taken great delight in annihilating both Harrys and then stomping on the pieces. Just Harry grimaced. Once again, while he knew that technically he and the almighty Potter were in fact the same person, he had built the Harry Potter persona up in his mind to the point where he had become almost a mythical being- godlike and untouchable. Just Harry did not quite measure up. And although usually the mention of him, would destroy Just Harry's fragile confidence, this time was different.

'**You just wait Harry Bleeding Potter!'** Just Harry thought triumphantly, and with that he stood decisively, placing some muggle money on the table before striding from the café muttering under his breath; "I'll show you Harry Potter!"


	2. Way Back When Pt 1

He had taken the prophecy hard. Voldemort was, well, Voldemort. The most feared dark lord of the last few decades. People were scared to even speak his name, for Merlin's sake! And Harry, fifteen year old Harry, was expected to succeed where Dumbledore had failed. Harry was expected to kill Voldemort, a man who both matched Dumbledore for power and had had over fifty years to learn all manner of spells and curses (not even mentioning that he was a ruthless sod with no conscience whatsoever). Harry on the other hand had had only five years of magical education, many of these being interrupted while he foiled Voldemort's plans for world domination.

He had returned home the summer of his fifth year coping with both his godfather's death at what he considered to be his hands and the fact that his life was almost certain to end in the very near future. He didn't expect to see his 20th birthday. He actually had doubts he would make it to his 16th, hell bent on killing him as Voldie seemed to be. He had spent the start of that summer in a haze of depression, convinced that the lack of contact from anyone meant that they too thought that he was going to die and had decided to cut ties now, before it got too messy.

He was shocked beyond belief when Dumbledore had turned up unannounced in the Dursley's living room on his birthday and told him to pack his things. He was even more shocked when, on apparating into Grimmauld Place, he found all of his friends waiting for him with a surprise party. After asking if they still wanted to stick by him when he had what he imagined as a big ticking bomb hanging over his head and being shouted down by several very angry and indignant people, he tried to forget about his worries for the night and enjoy himself. His inner-voice (which had sounded like Snape, even then) told him he may as well have some fun, as the next party he would be going to would probably be his funeral ("and oh what a party that will be" inner-Snape had told him, sounding almost happy). Although not exactly cheered by this thought, he listened to the voice and got thoroughly drunk on firewhiskey supplied by Fred and George. (He turned out to be a rather sad drunk, and spent the evening sobbing into Ron's shoulder, before vomiting spectacularly all over Hermione's feet).

The next morning, he had woken up with the mother of all hangovers and was less than pleased when Hermione had appeared at the door to tell him that Dumbledore wished to talk to him after breakfast. He had scraped himself out of bed, stumbled into the shower and spent five minutes washing the taste of puke out of his mouth, before he made his way downstairs. He had spent the whole of breakfast wincing into his coffee cup as the twins booming voices mocked him for his behaviour last night and although he felt extremely smug as he looked at Fred and George's faces when Molly started scolding them for giving him alcohol in the first place, he wished that she would have a little consideration for the family of woodpeckers that had taken up residence within his skull and seemed to be determined to peck their way out. The serious look on Dumbledore's face as he led Harry into an empty sitting room and proceeded to cast several privacy charms did nothing to help his predicament. Neither did the discussion they proceeded to have on what had to be the most abhorrent piece of magic ever created- Horcruxes.

Harry was unsure why he was surprised that Voldemort had utilised this knowledge. He was evil enough to make the requirements for the creation of a Horcrux no big deal and evidently he was stupid enough to believe that 1) any man could avoid death and 2) splitting you soul was a good way to go about it. Over the course of the next week, Dumbledore showed him several memories that gave clues as to what Voldemort might have used as his horcruxes (if Dumbledore was right in the assumption that Voldie had made more than one, which Harry strongly suspected he was) and where they could be hidden. Harry had demanded that he be involved in the search and much to his surprise Dumbledore had reluctantly agreed.

* * *

"I made a grave mistake in not telling you what I knew sooner, Harry. A mistake which I do not intend to make again." Dumbledore's voice was low and thick with sorrow. Harry could hardly believe what he was hearing.

"You mean… I can come with you Sir? I won't be shut out, while the adults do all the work?"

"No, Harry. Not this time." And although the Headmaster was agreeing, his face looked pained. "I have withheld information from you before in an attempt to protect you and you ended up facing Voldemort because of it. This time, I shall attempt to do right by you. You, more than anyone, deserve the opportunity to help in delivering the fatal blows to Voldemort after all you have lost because of him." Harry stiffened at the oblique mention to Sirius and his voice was raw with emotion as he replied.

"Thank you, Sir. For…for giving me the chance to do this. It means a lot to me Professor. To be able to help, that is."

"Well, Mr. Potter, you may be able to help sooner than you think…"

* * *

Dumbledore had then shown him a memory, which he believed to be the key to what they wanted to achieve. A school-age Voldemort and his potions professor, discussing horcruxes. But it had been tampered with and they needed a copy of the real memory, whole and unedited. Dumbledore had explained Horace Slughorn to Harry and the professor believed that they could use the fame of the Boy-Who-Lived to get what they needed. And so it was that they set of to see Slughorn, and Harry first employed the Harry Potter persona. He was charming, confident and utterly convincing, persuading Slughorn to give him the memory that he was most ashamed of, willingly and almost without argument. It had taken a few seconds of his blazing green gaze and the softly uttered words, "For my mother, Sir, for Lily…" and the man had bent over backwards to comply. When Dumbledore had mentioned the opportunity to teach at Hogwarts that coming year, Slughorn had jumped at the chance, eager for any position that would put him closer to Harry, and the influence that he would undoubtedly hold.

So, they had the final piece of the puzzle. And seven it was. Seven horcruxes to find and destroy. Well, five, since Harry had inadvertently (but not at all regretfully) destroyed the diary in his second year and Dumbledore believed Voldie had meant to create another on the night baby Harry had destroyed him, but, of course, lacking a body made this a little difficult to do. Five quickly became four, when Harry realised why he had a niggling feeling of familiarity when viewing the locket in the pensieve and it was liberated from Kreacher's cupboard. At which point the story of Regulus had spilled out, a young boy who got in too deep, too quickly and had done his best to repent. Harry had felt his hatred of Kreacher lessen slightly on hearing this, but the pain of losing Sirius was still too fresh for him to forget completely.

Dumbledore had explained his theory on the location of the ring to Harry and it was mid August when they set out to recover it. Dumbledore had at first tried to protest Harry's accompanying him, but a quick reminder of what had been said at the start of their search and he reluctantly agreed. Harry was beyond grateful. While being stuck at Grimmauld with the Weasleys, Hermione and the Order was infinitely better than being stuck in Privet Drive with the Dursleys, sometimes the constant reminders of Sirius got to be a bit much and escaping from them would be good, especially if they came one step nearer to finishing Voldie once and for all. Retrieving the horcrux had gone smoothly, up until the point where Dumbledore had tried to place the ring on his finger and Harry, in a moment of panic, had stunned him.

* * *

"STUPEFY!" The red light left Harry's wand and struck Dumbledore squarely in the chest, a split second before the man could slide the ring onto his right hand. His aged body crumpled to the ground, the ring rolling to a corner of the dilapidated shack.

"Well done Potter, 100 points to Gryffindor." Inner-Snape said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Excellent move, stunning the Headmaster." Harry growled angrily, before quickly ennervating his professor.

"I'm so sorry, Sir!" He exclaimed, once Dumbledore had fully awoken. "But, I thought you were going to put the ring on, and that didn't really seem like a good idea…" he trailed off here, unsure what to say next. Dumbledore merely smiled, eyes twinkling.

"Good thinking, my boy, I should have checked the ring more thoroughly before picking it up." Harry carefully helped Dumbledore up, internally smirking and doing a victory dance, having at last bested inner-Snape.

"Not right all the time, are you Snapey?" He thought smugly to himself as Dumbledore retrieved the ring, this time checking for and removing several compulsion charms on it.

* * *

With the ring destroyed, they were down to three horcruxes, with Dumbledore sure that one of them was the diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw and another was Voldie's pet snake, Nagini. As far as Harry was aware, the other one was unknown .

On September 1st, he had returned to Hogwarts, slightly more hopeful that he would survive the year than he had been at the beginning of the summer, but still believing that he would not make it out of the final confrontation alive. It had been with these decidedly depressing thoughts in mind that he had found himself an empty compartment and settled down for a long few hours of ignoring the students who had finally decided that he was telling the truth after all. Even if they were genuinely sorry, what was the point in forming more attachments to people when he was just going to die anyway? In his defence, Harry had never pretended to be all sunshine and roses. Some might call him a pessimist, but he preferred to think of himself as a realist and sometimes, reality sucked.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE :**

**Thankyou for the 2 reviews! It might not be a big number, but it made me happy anyway.**

**DukeBrymin: Your review was the inspiration for the focus of this chapter, which was originally going in a whole other direction. This part and the second part will show why Harry and Ginny never got together and hopefully show a bit more about why Harry is having difficulties in the future.**

**Nymphadora: Your review was very useful :) I was worried my thoughts had got a bit jumbled, but you summarised my whole chapter in a couple of sentences, which helped me to clear things up in my head and gave me some reassurance that I hadn't written a load of unintelligible rubbish.**

**In case this was not clear, and I think it was, this is the first part of the history to this story. Years 1-5 are as the books. But things differ after that, with Harry's reaction to the prophecy being more severe and Dumbledore feeling more guilt at shutting Harry out, with the result that he clues him in earlier. The reason Harry thinks that there is only one more Horcrux, when there are in fact two is because, like in the book, Dumbles has not told him that he is a horcrux.**

**Some bits of this are rather weak, I think. Unfortunately for me my urges to write seem to occur between the hours of midnight and 3 a.m.**


	3. Way Back When Pt 2

The train journey had been mostly uneventful. Romilda Vane, a Gryffindor fifth year, had tried to get Harry to sit with her and then had the nerve to look affronted when he rejected her offer. Having spent a portion of his fourth year and all of his fifth year being shunned and ridiculed by his peers, Harry was incensed that they now decided he was worthy of their time. This year, he didn't care if his attitude made enemies. After all if he couldn't deal with a student, he wasn't going to have much of a chance against Ol' Moldie, was he now?

Apart from that single interruption (and a lot of gormless students staring at him through the compartment window) he had spent the entire journey alone. He had briefly wondered where Ron and Hermione were, but then again, just last night, he had told them the entirety of the prophecy and everything he knew about the horcruxes. He hadn't wanted to at first, but eventually Dumbledore had persuaded him (and he had become tired of Hermione's almost constant questioning about what he had been doing with the professor all summer) and he had, against his better judgement, relented. Apparently for nothing, as they were now avoiding him. Not that he could blame them. He saw nothing of the friends he had not told either. (He couldn't really blame them either, it had only been a few months since he had led them almost to their deaths in the futile rescue attempt at the ministry. Not a situation he wanted to get into again, that one. Six teenagers against some of the darkest, most evil and conscienceless witches and wizards in Britain. Thanks, but no thanks.)

Of course it had turned out that his friends had not abandoned him, they had just been invited to a party in Professor Slughorn's compartment. Harry could only assume that the man was too ashamed of the memory he had shared to actually invite Harry, but had decided to get close to him through his friends. Not to mention that having five of the 'Ministry Six' would have been quite the coup for a man like Horace Slughorn.

The sorting had been as boring as usual and Harry had gone through the first evening back at school with a sort of nervous anticipation of the blow up that was sure to occur the next morning when he told Hermione how many N.E.W.T. subjects he was taking. He had jokingly wondered as he prepared for bed that night, if the study-loving Hermione would still want to be his friend when she found out he was only taking two classes that year. It didn't seem so much of a joke the next morning when an irate Hermione was ranting at Harry for not making the most of the opportunities he was being given. Of course Harry had the ultimate get-out-of-jail-free card: "It was Dumbledore's idea!" (Well, he was sure that the man would have suggested it if Harry hadn't done it first.) Half the occupants of the great hall had winced, when after being successfully defused by Harry, Ron reignited the girl's ire. The guy might have been his best friend, but he _really_ needed to learn when to keep his mouth shut. ("Hey! You can use all your spare time for quidditch, mate!"). Harry had wisely kept quiet, and silently thanked god for small mercies when Hermione left for Ancient Runes and Ron had headed down to the quidditch pitch, determined to get a head start on some moves, after being made quidditch captain for that year.

Ron had been so pleased to get the badge that he hadn't thought to ask why it wasn't Harry receiving it (a conversation which Harry wanted to avoid at all costs). Quitting the quidditch team had been an extremely hard decision, but he knew he was making the right choice. People's lives depended on him and he didn't think he would be able to play quidditch knowing that every minute he wasted would lead to more deaths. It was for this same reason that he had decided to take so few subjects. Charms and Transfiguration were all he was taking (two being the minimum number of subjects a student had to take to remain in Hogwarts). Dumbledore had informed him a few days before the term began that he would be receiving private tutoring during his free time from different members of the Order. Flitwick, McGonagall, Snape, Remus, Tonks, Moody and Dumbledore would all be preparing him for his inevitable confrontation with Voldemort and despite not being filled with joy at the prospect of having private lessons with Snape again, having so many powerful witches and wizards on his side made him hopeful that the outcome of the war would be the one they were working towards.

Harry had been spending every moment he was not in classes, eating or sleeping, training in the Room of Requirement. Dumbledore had placed a Fidelius on the room, ensuring that no one else would be able to use it. Which, considering half the school now knew about it, no thanks to Umbridge, was probably a good idea. Who knew what that room could be used for?

* * *

"If you were hiding a horcrux in the castle, where would you put it?" Harry asked one evening, out of the blue. He, Ron and Hermione were in the Room of Requirement with Remus who had just finished another lesson with Harry. Hermione looked up from her Charms essay, her brow furrowed. Remus looked thoughtful but kept silent.

"I dunno mate," Ron said (helpfully) as he considered his next move in his chess game against Remus, "The chamber?"

"No." Harry replied, frowning. "We already checked there, remember?"

"Oh, yeah… forgot." Despite the situation, Harry smiled slightly. Only Ron could '_forget_' scouring the chamber of secrets looking for a part of Voldemort's soul. He was too wrapped up in Lavender Brown (literally) to remember anything else.

"If it were me…" Hermione began, looking directly at Harry as she spoke, "I would hide it in here. What better place to hide something, than a room that doesn't exist?"

* * *

Less than twenty four hours after this revelation, Harry had the broken remnants of Rowena Ravenclaw's diadem in his hands. It was amazing how quickly something could be achieved when Dumbledore was on the case. A few quick flicks of his wand and it seemed like anything was possible.

It had been a suggestion of Ron's that had led to the discovery of last horcrux. The trio had once again been discussing the horcruxes and what the last one could possibly be, when Ron had voiced the opinion that Dumbledore being the man Voldiewart had feared (and hated) the most, would make him a target.

* * *

"It's like quidditch, isn't it? When Gryffindor wins, I like to rub the Ferret's nose in it. I reckon that You-Know-Who'd want to do the same. Shove it in Dumbledore's face that he can't die. I think he'd use something of his." Ron said, looking at Hermione for approval.

"It's a good theory, Ron. Using a personal object of Dumbledore's to make something so vile would be the ultimate insult…" Hermione replied, her face thoughtful. Ron beamed.

"I'll ask him tonight, see if he agrees and has any idea what it could be. Good idea though, mate. Might even be Order of Merlin worthy…" Harry smirked inwardly as Ron turned as red as his hair and began to stammer awkwardly.

* * *

Harry had discussed this with Dumbledore, but the man could not think of anything that Moldie would have used and it was soon forgotten. Dumbledore told Harry to let the adults concentrate on finding the last horcrux (a suggestion which he resented, but could do nothing about) and focus on his training. By the time the Christmas holidays rolled round, Harry was well on his way to becoming a proficient and inventive dueller using combinations of hexes, charms, transfiguration and sneaky marauder tricks to best his opponents. As much as he enjoyed learning to fight, he had been looking forward to getting out of the castle during the break. He was not a happy camper when was told that it was too dangerous to leave the castle over the holiday. Unfortunately for the adults in control of his life, Harry Potter had somewhere he wanted to go and _nothing_ was going to get in his way.

* * *

"I want to visit Godric's Hollow." Harry said, directing the focus of his rather intense gaze directly at his headmaster. Dumbledore frowned.

"I don't think that will be possible, Harry. Within the castle you have a certain amount of protection and removing you from that protection would be giving Voldemort a perfect opportunity to strike."

"I'm going to die-" Harry started again disregarding Dumbledore's concerns, but he was cut off by a strangled sob coming from Remus' throat.

"Don't say that!" the man bit out, choking down another sob. Remus was shaking in his seat, his face pale and pinched. Tonks, who was sitting next to him, her hair lacking its customary conspicuous colouring, reached over and clasped his hand in her own. To his right, Harry could see an ashen-faced McGonagall leaning heavily on the wall next to the fireplace and he could almost feel the penetrating gaze of Moody's magical eye on his back.

"It's the truth Remus. I'm going to die." He raised his hand to cut off any more objections and took a deep breath. "I've accepted this. I'm going to die, sooner rather than later and before I do I want to visit Godric's hollow and see the place where this all began. I want to see my parent's graves. I've had so little freedom in my life. Trapped with the Dursleys, trapped at Hogwarts, trapped by my own ignorance and now, trapped by fate." Harry's voice shook slightly as he spoke. "I'm going to die," he repeated again, looking around at the pale faces of his mentors, only Snape and Flitwick were absent, "And I want to do this before I do. This is the only thing I'll ask, please, _please_, don't deny me it." There was silence in the room for several minutes, before Dumbledore finally spoke, looking older than Harry could ever remember seeing him.

"Very well, Harry. It shall be arranged."

* * *

It was in the graveyard of Godric's Hollow that they had discovered the last horcrux. Harry had accidentally stumbled across the grave of 'Ariana Dumbledore' and had asked the professor if she was any relation. Seeing the look of pain on the man's face as he had told Harry that it was his sister's grave had recalled to his mind Hermione's words, "Using a personal object of Dumbledore's to make something so vile would be the ultimate insult…" and using the gravestone of his beloved sister was even worse. Which was precisely why he had done it...

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

**I had a lot of problems writing this, with the result that the short history has become a 3 part monster (in my eyes) that is killing me. On the plus side, I wasn't writing this in chronological order, so part three is very nearly completed too! Except I forgot about the snake :s (and I now have to decide who kills it, when and where. It won't be Neville, however much I think he deserves to do it, it just doesn't fit. Sorry Neville)**

**Anyway! Thankyou for the reviews: monkiie business, DukeBrymin, PeaceLoveRockandRoll and Nymphadora.**

**Thanks to Nymphadora for the suggestion to mix up the Voldemort nicknames slightly. I am trying to stick to the general formula of Harry saying Riddle to Voldie's face, Voldemort to others and little nicknames in his head.**

**EDIT: I have corrected the mistakes. Thankyou DukeBrymin! Yes, I added one to five and got seven (It is difficult to count so many fingers). Also Harry was originally taking three subjects: Charms, Transfiguration and DADA, but I figured a) He was already pretty advanced in the subject and b) the stuff he needs to know would probably not be on the sixth year syllabus.**


End file.
